Nothing is both more revered and searched after than the fabled city of Al-Talash, the oasis within the Desert. Its sudden disappearance is as mysterious as the countless inventions that may be found throughout the whole Desert, their uses unknown. Yet, the Sands are a vast, dangerous territory, and countless adventurers have perished trying to unearth what has been lost to us for over a millennium.

Over the centuries, we have become weak. Now, the Greenlanders have robbed us of our few remaining fertile lands and driven us even further south. They should pray to their puny gods Al-Talash remains lost forever, buried beneath the Sands. Because the moment it emerges from the Desert, our empire will rise once more.

Excerpt from Al-Talash: past and present, written by Ibrahim Naqbal

Silas woke to a hammer pounding against the inside of his skull. Blearily opening his eyes, he tried to get his bearings. Long vines were woven together in a large ball all around him, thick branches placed within it to serve crutches. His breathing faltered as he got a hold of his surroundings. Gnarly lay unconscious in front of him, face down. Countless vines stuck out of his body in all places, making up the structure that sheltered Silas.

Silas crawled towards his friend with shaking hands. His vision was blurry as he caressed Gnarly’s bark-like skin.

“Gnarly, wake up. Gnarly, please. I can’t… I can’t.” His throat constricted. Silas had failed. He had tried so hard, but it hadn’t been enough. First he had let his parents die, and now his only real friend was gone. All because of him. Because of his weakness. Fingers clenched around the vines below him. Thick tears dropped onto the wood as the despair took hold of him, poisoning his mind.

A voice prevented his thoughts from derailing further. “You feel him?”

Silas raised his head. Zaya slumped against the wall opposite of him, her eyes half-closed as she half raised her hand to point at Gnarly. Silas didn’t understand.

“You feel him still?” she repeated.

Forcing himself to move his perception inwards, Silas focused on his bond with Gnarly. Although barely noticeable, he could still feel Gnarly’s presence at the edge of his consciousness. Weak, but alive. A shuddering sigh escaped Silas’ lungs. Gnarly wasn’t dead. There was a chance he could survive. But what could Silas do? He wasn’t a healer.

Where was Nurana? Another unconscious body lay not far away from him. A large gash drew itself across her forehead and thick blood flowed slowly onto the nest of vines.

“Give Yigun through rope,” Zaya mumbled, having closed her eyes again. “You give Yigun to Gnarly. Gnarly need Yigun.”

Giving Zaya a second look, he noticed multiple red spots seeping through her leather clothing, tainting it a deep brown. “What do you mean? What is Yigun? And how do I give it to Gnarly?”

Zaya didn’t respond. “Zaya please, I need your help!”

She slowly opened her mouth again, her voice a soft whisper. “Yigun be everything, Nura kai. Yigun be power. Vokha need Yigun to use Iana’tor. Give Yigun to Gnarly, and he…” Zaya’s head sacked against the back wall. Her chest moved in shallow breaths, her eyelids closing once more.

Silas needed to think. His mind worked on overdrive, completely ignoring his pounding headache. He absently pulled a piece of rock out of his shoulder, pressing his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Fresh blood warmed his fingers. If Yigun was power, then how could he give power to Gnarly? Did she mean…

Realization hit Silas as he grasped onto his Inner Landscape. It was still surprisingly dense, its ephemeral mist waiting for him to be used. If he needed to give power to Gnarly, could he use the bond to transfer energy? Willing the mist to flow along the bond, a spark of hope ignited in his chest as a he saw stream of mist obeying his will. Reaching the other side, it soon made contact with Gnarly, and his friend’s mind connected to his own. Hunger. Exhaustion. Pain. Relief at having saved his friends.

The stream of mist thickened, turning into a river of energy that flowed into Gnarly’s Inner Landscape. As the influx of energy increased, so did the emotional connection. It was at this moment that Silas truly understood what his friend had done.

Gnarly had known he might not make it, he had known that trying to save Silas, Zaya, and Nurana would take more out of him than he would be able to endure. Yet, Gnarly hadn’t even hesitated for a heartbeat. An image of Nergui saving him from the Tokra flashed before his inner eye, the arachnoids claw piercing her stomach.

Time and time again, people had sacrificed themselves for him. Why? He didn’t deserve it. He knew that. The only thing he could do is try to make up for it. If he lost Gnarly now, Silas would never be able to forgive himself. As long as his heart beat in his chest, Silas would do everything it took to protect his friend. No, his friends. He now realized why Gnarly had liked Zaya from the beginning. She was just like him and Gnarly. He owed her, he knew that now. Another thing to make up for.

Resolution steeled his mind and focused his senses. Bit by bit, his Inner Landscape lost its sustenance, more and more energy rushing into Gnarly. Silas could notice his friend’s presence grow within his own mind. It didn’t take long until he was almost completely drained. But he didn’t stop there. He gave Gnarly everything, impervious to his own state of mind. A blanket of smothering drowsiness soon settling over his mind. He felt his grip on consciousness slipping, but he didn’t care. Head resting on the roots, Silas gave in to the exhaustion. He just hoped it would be enough.

***

Faint voices reached his ears. A tingle on his cheek. His body felt like lead. Brushing his face with one hand, Silas opened his eyes. Fine, dark strands of auburn hair hung over him, tickling his skin. For a moment, he was utterly lost as two deep emeralds stared into him. He didn’t even dare to breathe, lest the moment passed, gone forever. Zaya let out a sigh of relief before forcing a frown on her thin eyebrows and shook her head.

“Idiot boy. You not need give all Yigun to Gnarly. This be dangerous. You need think,” she began, pressing her index finger against Silas’s forehead, “before act,” she finished before averting her gaze.

Her voice brought him out of his stupor. How could he have forgotten about Gnarly? “Did it work? Where is Gnarly?”

“Creak.” A small hand patted his nose. Gnarly stood on his right, a smile across his features. The knot in Silas’ chest loosened itself the moment he saw his wooden friend. It had worked. Silas pulled Gnarly close, rubbing his friend against his cheek.

“Creak, creak, creak,” Gnarly assured him, trying to free himself from Silas’ grip.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Creak, creak,” Gnarly voiced after he had calmed down somewhat.

“I know I should have been more careful, but after seeing you there, lying unconscious, I just…”

“Creak!” Gnarly’s tone brooked no argument.

Silas let out a deep sigh. “I promise I’ll be more careful next time, alright?”

Gnarly nodded, the sticks on his head wobbling with the motion. A wave of nausea hit Silas as he propped himself up. Zaya held onto his shoulder to steady him.

“You lose much blood. No sudden motion, understand?”

Silas put a hand to his forehead. “Mmhmm.”

Zaya grunted in reply, her face more pale than usual. Silas skimmed over the deep spots on her clothes. “Are you alright?”

“Of course.” Zaya sounded irritated for some reason. “Have some wounds, but I be fine.”

Silas was surprised to feel a wave of relief wash over him. Where did that thought come from? When Gnarly had been on the verge of dying, Zaya had been the one to help him, even though she had been struggling to stay conscious. Now, he was fleeing from a squad of Invokers after attacking the Guild’s Mages, all with a barbarian at his side. Silas might be Ceraviehlian, but he didn’t have a people anymore. Same as Zaya. Looking into her eyes, Silas did something he should have done days ago.

“Sorry for what I said when we were trying to enter Kuzant. You don’t have anything to do with the war, and I know that. It’s just difficult to not see you as the same people who…” Silas trailed off as a lump began to form in his throat.

Zaya looked at him expectantly.

“Nothing. Thank you for helping me save Gnarly. I owe you one.”

Zaya petted Gnarly on his head, eliciting a series of creaks from him. “Gnarly also be my friend.” Something flickered over her face, but was gone in a heartbeat. “Maybe you not complete idiot boy. Only boy,” she added, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

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Silas wanted to frown at her but found himself unable to. He shook his head instead, a single chuckle escaping his throat. “Annoying girl.” A stone hit him in the leg, but there was no force behind it.

“I’m fine as well, thanks for asking,” a voice came from his left.

Nurana sat a couple of feet away from them, a piece of cloth wrapped around her head.

“Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

“I wonder why,” the Drakh said, her eyes flickering towards Zaya, who sat beside Silas.

With a start, he realized the vines from earlier were gone. Instead, they now sat inside a seemingly endless tunnel, one end blocked by a heap of rubble that went all the way to the ceiling. Silas didn’t need a second look to know they wouldn’t get out that way. They might be passable Artist, but moving boulders the size of a hut was not an option. In addition, they had no idea how far down they were. For all they knew, the whole tunnel might collapse the moment they tried to move one of the boulders.

A translucent ball of Magelight was the only thing illuminating the tunnel, its dim glow reflecting the deep-red sheen of the metal. Most were made out of hardened glass, so they weren’t exactly cheap to come by. However, they were also incredibly useful; they could be used by almost anyone and required very little energy to function.

The ground of the tunnel was littered with rusted iron bars going all the way into the darkness. It reminded him of the tower they had sought shelter in a couple of moons ago. This had to be another tunnel of the Yucahue. But where did it lead towards? Everybody knew the Crimson Dunes were nothing but a wasteland, yet the tunnel went straight ahead, further into the Dunes. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to have a choice. With one way blocked, going forward was the only option.

“By the way, you really should be more careful of your wounds in the future,” Nurana added. “Pulling that piece of rock out of your shoulder just before deciding to fall unconscious was not exactly a smart idea. Had Zaya not shaken me awake, you might have died from blood loss.”

Silas lowered his head. He had already forgotten that. His shoulder was fine now, even if it ached a bit. “Thank you for healing me.”

Nurana gave him a short nod.

“May I ask where you learned your craft?” Silas inquired. “You seem to have quite the knack for it.”

A pained smile drew itself across Nurana’s face. Her eyes lingered on the scales adorning her wrists and forearms. “The servants of Ixchel saved me from the streets when I was but a young girl. After discovering I had an affinity for flesh, they trained me to be a healer and join their ranks. I was a good one, too. Better than most, actually” she said with a small smile.

The Drakh raised her head. “Has anyone ever looked at you like you’re the whole world to them? Like you’re the answer to all their problems? That face of that utter gratitude, it shook me to the core. Her name was Samira, a young mother whose child had been severely mangled by a stray wolf. Aaliya, she was called. I wasn’t supposed to attempt to heal her, you know. But there was no one else around. Waiting for an elder to come back would mean letting the child die, and Samira and I both knew it.”

Nurana paused for a moment. Silas and Zaya stayed silent. Sometimes, it was better to listen.

“I looked her in the eye and told her I was but an apprentice. Unfit to heal such injuries. The mother then fell to her knees in front of me, weeping her heart out as she begged me to save her child. Do you have any notion what that’s like?” she asked, her voice shaking with emotion. “Having someone swearing to do anything you want just for you to help them?” Nurana took a shuddering breath. “So I did what I had to do, even if the elders warned me against it. You see, any healer can easily harm themselves if they aren’t careful enough. But I saved the child. I fell unconscious afterwards and had to take medicine for a few moons, but I did it. Even years after, Samira used to come to the temple with her daughter, just to see me.”

A fierce fire began to burn in her dark eyes. “For the first time in my life, I knew I did something good. I had something there, you know. I could have been one of the best healers in the city, if only…” she trailed off, her gaze growing vacant.

“What happened?” Silas eventually asked.

Nurana’s head dropped, letting her black hair fall over her face. “Doesn’t matter anymore, does it? It’s all gone, anyway. Now we’re trapped in an unknown tunnel somewhere below the Crimson Dunes. Do you know how many people have disappeared trying to explore this region? We’re going to die here, just like all the rest.”

“Whining not do nothing,” Zaya said. “If we die, we die.”

Nurana huffed, but nodded. “Water above, dust below.”

“What?” Silas frowned.

“It’s just a saying,” Nurana replied, shrugging.

“But what does it mean?”

“Not sure, it’s an old one. Something about the inevitability of death, I think?”

Silence blanketed the tunnel as the words sank in, everyone’s eyes transfixed on the dim glow of the Magelight.

“I never see family again,” Zaya eventually spoke up.

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Silas tried to reassure her, but the doubt must have crept through his voice.

Zaya glared at the Drakh. “If not for her, they be fine.”

“What have I got do to with any of this?”

“Be your fault!” Zaya spat out. “Your fault Invokers want kill us. Your fault we be here. Be your fault I not see family!”

“I didn’t ask for you to help me,” Nurana exclaimed, throwing her arms to the side.

“Creak,” Gnarly laid a hand on Zaya’s knee. Looking down, her hard eyes softened. “Creak, creak.”

“What he say?” Zaya asked Silas, all the while keeping eye contact with Gnarly.

Silas thought for a moment as he interpreted Gnarly’s message. “He says we’ll find a way to help them, and that they’re going to be alright.”

A soft smile drew itself across Zaya’s thin lips as she patted Gnarly with one hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, turning her head before anyone could see the wetness in her eyes.

Gnarly waved one arm in a nonchalant motion. “Creak.”

After everyone had recuperated enough to walk, they decided to head further into the tunnel. Their rations were growing disturbingly low. If they didn’t find food soon, they’d run into serious issues in a day or two.

The rusty rods led them ever deeper into the tunnel. Silas soon lost track of time. Empty, broken metal containers hung from the ceiling, some of them having fallen to the ground. The air was completely stale, as if nothing had disturbed the tunnel for who knew how long. It was all the same, the darkness engulfing everything around them.

With a start, Silas realized they had no way to know in which direction they were walking. If they had turned around already, would they even know it? For how long had they been walking? His legs felt like too heavy, dragging his feet along. Silas cursed. They should have marked their way.

Zaya stopped suddenly. Silas almost bumped into her as he willed his legs to stop moving. “What is it?”

“Ssshh.” She held one finger over her lips, cocking her head.

Repeated clicking came from somewhere far down the tunnel. Silas took out his bow. Whatever was the source of the noise, it had to be more than one creature. The sound grew louder with each step they took. Finally, they saw it.

Ahead of them, a couple of scuttlers fought against each other, a small piece of rotten flesh lying between them. Scuttlers were mostly scavengers and generally not a threat to humankind. Yet, something was off about these creatures. Their oval carapaces were over a foot long—normally, Scuttlers were maybe half that size, at most. They walked on six claw-like legs with two barbed, sharp claws at their front. Beady black eyes poked out of two antennae that swiveled constantly around.

Upon closer inspection, none of them were quite the same. Deep, glowing red veins pulsed through their bodies. One of them sported a leg growing upwards, dangling in the air uselessly. Another’s mouth had long fangs at the front, dripping a sickly, green liquid as it bit into one of its comrades. Yet another one had wings for some reason, even if it didn’t seem to be able to fly.

“What happened to these creatures?” Silas asked as he nocked an arrow.

“The Crimson Dunes happened.” Nurana began. “The very air in this region causes everything to… change, in both mind and body. People refer to it as The Taint. Nobody knows where it came from. There’s a reason nobody ventures deep into the Dunes anymore. So far, only one person has made it back.”

“Better than nothing, right?” Silas shrugged.

Nurana gave him a look. “That same person killed his daughter, whom he hadn’t seen in over a year, carved her up like a piece of meat, and ate her on the day of his return.”

Silas was glad his stomach was empty as he retched. “What in Herald’s name is wrong with this region?”

“A lot. I suggest we get out of here as soon as possible,” Nurana said, glancing warily at the scuttlers.

Zaya grunted. “So we kill creatures and move out of Dunes fast, easy shleasy.” Getting into a fighting stance, four head-sized rocks moved in front of her.

“Shleasy?” Silas asked her but was interrupted as Zaya punched one of the rocks. The scuttler with fangs was immediately ground to paste, its legs twitching a few times before coming still.

“Shleasy.” Zaya nodded, already preparing her next punch.

Silas grabbed his spear. However, much to his surprise, the scuttlers didn’t react to them, at all. Instead, they immediately turned to the squashed remains of their fellow specimen, their mouths slurping up what little was left of its body.

They tried not to look at the disturbingly colorful mixture of liquids that seeped out from the crushed piece of carapace as they made their way further into the tunnel. To their left, another way wound upwards in a spiral. They let out a collective sigh of relief. If they could reach the surface soon, they might be able to get back to the mountain pass.

All hopes were squashed as they followed the path a few steps. It had collapsed, leaving them with no choice but to continue the other way. They backtracked with a sour mood, the passage descending further and further into the darkness. Few pauses were made in between, the remaining water from their canteens growing worryingly low. Eventually, however, something changed within the tunnel. Silas had to ponder for a moment before realizing the echo of his steps had hollowed out.

A while later, they finally reached the end of the tunnel. A high platform stood above them, the wide archway at its end leading into the darkness. Crumbled stone stairs led up to the platform. Below it, a massive iron container lay forgotten, rust flaking from its metal.

“Where do you think we are?” Silas asked Nurana.

“Somewhere deep in the Crimson Dunes. Wanna go first?” the Drakh nudged her head upwards.

Silas puffed out his chest, throwing a glance at Zaya. “Sure, I don’t care,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with forced casualty.

He frowned at himself as he crept up the stairs, his steps silent. Why did he even care what she thought of him? Putting his back against the archway, Silas carefully tossed a stone into the darkness. It bounced once, twice, and went still.

Silence.

Holding one hand out, he turned towards Zaya, who still had the Magelight. “Light, please.”

Zaya tossed the small ball upwards. The archway opened into a roughly circular room. Deep, orange sandstone made up the walls and almost the entirety of the room and what lay beyond it. A mosaic adorned the ceiling, portraying a young, regal man holding some kind of metal contraption in his hand. Broken tools lay discarded all around the chamber. A number of crude passages were carved into the rock, all leading in a different direction.

Silas hadn’t even noticed Zaya coming up behind him, standing up on her toes to look over his shoulder. “What be this place?” she whispered, her breath tingling his neck.

Nurana was the last to join them on the platform, immediately stopping as she looked up. “No, it can’t be.” The whites in her eyes were visible, her gaze transfixed on the half-broken mosaic displayed on the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” Silas asked her.

“That’s Aqueel, the founder of… no, that’s impossible,” she mumbled to herself.

Silas gripped his spear tighter. “What is it?”

Nurana took a deep breath before forcing her eyes away from the ceiling. “I have an idea, but I really hope I’m wrong.”